My Reality is Wrong
by Be My Master
Summary: Timmy was hurt when he was young, and it caused him severe trama as he grew up. He was a lovely little kid, until she came. He was a fine example of the perfect child. Until she had to ruin it. Now, she's dead, and he's in his head. Stuck, stuck where his reality is wrong. R&R please.
1. It Begins

**PoV Mr. Turner**

We were waiting outside the hospital room, our hands clasped together. The room was lit with a cold glow, the lights flickering every so often. Mrs. Turner was silently crying, like she did often when we were here. I wrapped an arm around her. She rested her head on my shoulder and sighed. The cold hospital air was all too familiar to us, more familiar than it should be. We waited for the doctor.

The door to our left opened, and the doctor walked in, his clipboard swinging in his hand at his side. He smiled at us – he must be new – and introduced himself as Doctor Williams. He had short dirty blond hair that was combed to the side and an English accent. He flipped a page on his clipboard and frowned.

"Oh," he said. "You must be Timmy's parents. Come this way."

We were led to another small waiting room. Mr. Williams asked us more questions than I could count, and we answered them as best we could. We really seemed like absent parents for the first eight years of his life, but after that, we just couldn't take any more questions.

"Please," my wife said, "can we see him?"

Mr. Williams sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose and nodded his head, motioning for us to follow him again. We did, not knowing where we were going again. The halls were quiet, aside from the occasional cry of a baby. Were we in the infantry wing? Why would we be?

Mr. Williams stopped before a solid white door without a window, and turned to us.

"Please don't be upset with his progress. We're doing the best we can," he said, and opened the door.


	2. It's Starting

**PoV Timmy**

I was stood at the bus stop, my back pack straps cutting into my shoulders. The sun beat down hotly, and I was already starting to get sweaty. I didn't want Trixie to see me like this. Oh, god she'd kill me. Trixie and I have become great friends since I told her that I was in love with her anymore. She had thought that was great, and now she could actually have a male friend. Yeah, I don't get it wither.

Poof, in cat form, rubbed against my leg. I was wearing shorts, and the rush of cool fur felt nice. I was turning to look down at him when a sloppy kiss was placed on my cheek.

"Arg!" I exclaimed.

Looking down at me was Danny, his large blue eyes full of laughter. His breath curled out of his mouth a light blue, his ghost sense. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, but I elbowed him away.

"Danny!" I yelled. "Don't kiss me! I'm not gay…"

"You wear enough pink," Danny said coolly. He grinned as Sam walked up to us. She had left behind that fake goth crap, and gone for a more natural look.

"Hey, Tim-Tim," Sam said.

"Don't call me that!" I snapped.

"Whoa, like fourteen, don't be a bitch," Danny said.

"Whoa, big eighteen, suck it," I said back.

Sam started laughing, and Danny and I smiled. It was fun, our banter.

When we got to school, I went to my locker to get my books.

_"Timmy…"_

I turned around to face whoever was talking, but I didn't see anyone.


	3. It Started When

**PoV Mr. Turner**

It started when Timmy was eight.

We came home one day, and the house was trashed.

"Timmy?!" Mrs. Turner yelled.

There was no response. We looked around the house, and found Timmy asleep in the bath tub. He was fully clothed, but there was water soaking the carpet outside the bathroom, as the water was overflowing. I picked Timmy up from the bath and brought him to his room. We called Vicky, who came over as fast as she could. By the time we got Timmy awake, Vicky had gotten there.

When Timmy saw her, he screamed. He screamed in pure terror, and it was the first time that Timmy's eyes were gone. He wasn't seeing us.

He began to cry, and we made Vicky go into the hall way.

Vicky went home an hour later, after we asked her why he was home alone. She said she had just gone out to get MacDonald's, and came back when we called. Timmy calmed down when she left, and we gave him something to draw with. That was the first we learnt of Timmy's big imagination.

He drew a boy and named his Gary. He was convinced that Gary was real, and that he only came to see Timmy at night. We were a bit concerned, but we let it go. It only got worse from then.

We left Timmy at the house for a few minutes to go talk to our new neighbors, the Dinkleberg's. I really hate that man. We heard something break in the house, and we ran back in. Timmy was sat on the floor of the kitchen, holding shards of a broken plate, blood bubbling from cuts on his fingers and palms.

"Look, mommy," he said, holding up his hand. "Paint."

He smiled and smeared his blood over the tiles. Making a picture of fairies. More fairies.

The next week was okay. He didn't seem any different from the other kids. But then he started having panic attacks, and he started screaming and crying at everything, and soon enough, we were scared. We sent him to a therapist. She said that he was fine, so we gave Timmy a bit of space. He seemed to be doing okay. He smiled and laughed and joked with us like normal.

"So, Timmy," I said one evening at dinner, "your mother and I are going out to dinner tomorrow with some big corporate pencil pushers, and we have to leave you home. Would that be okay with you?"

Timmy nodded, his cheeks full of mashed potatoes.

"Do you want Vicky to come over?" my wife asked.

Timmy swallowed and tried to talk at the same time, causing his to spit up his food. "No!" he yelled. "Don't let her-"

I couldn't figure out what he said after that, because he had started crying again. I got up and kneeled down next to him. He had his head on his knees, and his arms wrapped around his legs. He rocked himself back and forth.

"Timmy," I said firmly. "Timmy, look at me."

Timmy looked up at me, but his eyes were gone again.

"NO!" he yelled, falling/jumping out of his chair and running from the kitchen.

"Timmy!" I yelled. We ran after him, into his room-

-and stopped. His walls were covered him paint and crayon. Tortured faces screamed down at us, mangled and bloody. Pictures of himself were on the walls in frightening detail, crying and naked, crouched down on the floor. Blood from when he broke the plate was smeared on the wall next to his bed, into smiling faces. There was a painting of Vicky on his wall as well, smiling vindictively from just above his head board. His bed sheets were bundled in the corner; his mattress half pulled off his bed. Timmy was crouched in the corner with his blankets, sobbing and muttering under his breath.

Needless to say, we fired Timmy's therapist.

It went on like this for a year, the good days and the bad days, then it took a terrible turn. I had to go out for a meeting and Timmy's mom was at work. I had no other option. I called Vicky.

Timmy seemed okay when she got to the house, smiling and sweet as usual. She said that she could make Timmy dinner and have him tucked into bed before nine. I was so happy and I made it to the meeting on time. It seemed like things were really looking up for us. Mrs. Turner had just gotten a raise, I had just gotten a promotion, and Timmy hadn't had an episode in three months.

At ten o'clock, I got a call. It was the police. Vicky had gone out to get something and had been attacked. She was dead. I rushed to get home, but I got stuck in traffic. When I did get home, Timmy was fine. I was relieved. I didn't even care that leaving early from the meeting got me demoted. I was just glad Timmy was okay.

A year later, while I was at work, I got a call from Timmy.

"Hey, Tim, what's up?" I asked.

"I killed her, didn't I?"

"What? Timmy, what are you talking about?"

"She was going out to get MacDonald's for us, for me, and she died. It was my fault, it was all my fault. I killed her."

"Timmy, it wasn't your fault. You stay where you are, okay? I'm coming home, okay?"

"What if I wanted her dead."

"What? Timmy, you-"

He hung up.


	4. Not Again

**PoV Timmy**

I was stood at my locker, pulling out my bag, when Danny came up behind me.

"Hey, Timmy, I need some help," he said.

"What with?" I asked.

"Tonight's the night I want to go all the way with Sam, but I have no idea how to get her to… you know…" He made an obscene gesture with his hands, moving his shoulders and eyebrows up.

"No, I don't." I looked up at him, and eyebrow raise. "I don't know what that means."

"I don't know how to get her to let me," he did finger quotes, "'de-flower' her."

"The hell makes you think I do?!" I asked.

"I don't know. I just need some help."

I sighed. "Just invite her over, make a nice dinner and see where it goes from there." I pointed a finger at him. "And don't ask me for advice like that again."

Danny smiled.

All the way home, I had a strange feeling, like I was being watched. I kept turning around to see if I was being followed, but I wasn't. Something just felt wrong. Very wrong.

Vicky's car pulled up beside me.

"Get in, twerp, we're going shopping," she said.

I sighed and got into her car. I buckled my seat belt as she sped down the high way. The trees rushed by the window faster than when my mom drove, and I was gripping the seat through the entire ride.

Suddenly, Vicky put a hand on my knee. She had just parked the car.

"Listen, twerp, you're not to say anything to your parents, ya' got it?" she said, her hand slowly inching up my leg.

Oh, no.

Not again.


	5. I Can't Stand This

**PoV Mr. Turner**

We stepped into the cold room as Doctor Williams stepped aside. Timmy was sat in the corner, his eyes glazed over, drawing on a large piece of white paper. Shadows filled the room, almost like they were stuck in the corners, trying to get away, trying to escape.

Doctor Williams walked over to Timmy and lifted his chin, looking into his eyes.

I must correct what I said earlier. Timmy's eyes weren't glazed over, they just… weren't there. I sat down cross from him. He stared through me, and smiled a little. It was sad. He looked like he was thinking, but I knew that for the past four years he hadn't really been thinking. He had just been… looking. Timmy moved his hand back and forth on the paper, pulling a green crayon with him. He had drawn a green haired fairy. Again. Looking around the room, that green hair was everywhere.

Turning to look at the walls, I saw that they were covered in pictures. A pink haired fairy, a purple haired fairy and a green haired fairy. There was paint splattered on the only bare patch of wall. Hand prints in red, green, blue, every colour that Timmy could get his hands on. Timmy was looking up at the ceiling, his lips stretched into a smile. His face and hands were covered in paint and marker.

"Timmy?" Mrs. Turner asked. "Hi, baby."

Timmy didn't react.

He got to his feet and walked over to the hand printed part of the wall. He put his picture there. He still had his crayon in his hand. He drew a line through a picture on the wall, which must have been… Her. Vicky.

Timmy yawned and walked over to the rear left corner, where his bed was positioned at an angle, so there was still the corner open. He pulled off the blanket and crawled into his corner.

"I think it's time for you to go," Mr. William's said.


	6. How Do You Know Me?

**PoV Timmy**

When I got home, I went straight to the bathroom and got in as soon as the water starting. It was freezing, and goose bumps rose on my arms. But, soon, the water was boiling. It bit at my skin, the sharp teeth of water stinging. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I stared at the shower floor. How could I let her do that to me?

"Timmy?" I heard a voice say.

I looked behind me. Why, I have no idea. I moved aside the shower curtain and saw Cosmo. He was in his human form, his legs and arms long and skinny. I smiled at him, and he sat on the floor, crossing his legs. His wings fluttered slightly.

"Are you okay?" Cosmo asked. "You seem out of sorts…"

"I'm alright, I guess," I said.

He nodded, and I went back to my shower.

…

"_Timmy… Can you hear me?"_

I looked around my room. Where had the voice come from?

"I can hear you," I said.

Then the weird things happened.

_The walls burnt away, replaced with a bright white fabric. The floor melted, flooding aside to show more of the white fabric. I was sitting on the floor, and my pants were gone. I looked down at my hands, which were covered in paint and marker. I was wearing a hospital gown. My skin was so pale it was nearly grey. The walls were covered in crappy pictures of Cosmo, Wanda and Poof. Then there was Vicky. I felt sick, seeing them; seeing her in such detail._

_I looked up at the man stooped in front of me, his hair an ashen brown. His nose was long and thin, and his name tag read "R. Williams". I was suddenly scared of him._

"_Timmy?" he asked._

"_How do you know me?" I screamed, leaping to my feet and trying to run away from him. My feet caught in my blankets. I fell._

Then, I was on the floor in my bed room. Everything was back to normal. The walls were blue, the floor was brown. There were no pictures on my walls.

I was safe.


	7. He Woke Up

**PoV Mr. Turner**

I sighed with content as I sat down on the couch and flicked the television on. The work day had been hard. The whole day had been hard to get through. It was Timmy's birthday. His fifteenth birthday. I sighed again, but this time, I was fed up. I hated what our life had become. The door bell rang, and I heard the annoying whistling of Dinkleberg. I growled low in my throat.

"What?" I snapped when I opened the door.

"I heard it was your son's birthday from some of the men at the office," he said, smiling. "So the wife and I thought we'd make him a cake. Can I come in?"

I glared at him. "If you heard from the office that it was Timmy's birthday, why haven't you heard that he has been in the hospital for the past five years? Why haven't you heard that he doesn't respond to any outside stimuli? Why haven't you? But I bet you have. I bet you've come over here to gloat to us that your son is alive! That your new born baby boy that I've heard so much about is as fit as a fiddle!"

"Timmy's in the hospital?" Dinkleberg's eyes grew wider. "I didn't know!"

"Oh, of course you didn't!" I slammed the door and stormed back inside.

The phone rang. I sighed with frustration. Couldn't I have one moment of peace?!

As I picked up the phone, I noticed the call was from the hospital. "Hello?"

"Mr. Turner?" It was Doctor Williams.

"Yes."

"Timmy woke up. It was only for a minute or two, but he woke up.

"He woke up."


	8. They're Hiding Something

**PoV Timmy**

I thought it best not to tell Cosmo or Wanda about my little episode. I didn't tell my parents, or my friends. But I felt like I really needed to tell someone. So, I let a little bit of it slip into the "creative writing" essay we were doing in English. My teacher said I had a very vivid imagination.

I also might have told a little bit of it to Danny and Sam. But they didn't even notice I was there, they were kissing a lot. It took me so long to remember something. It's my birthday! I almost missed it. I didn't expect anyone to remember, not even my parents.

When I got home, my parents weren't home. I went to my room, and found that Cosmo and Wanda were gone. Walking to the bathroom, I noticed a white door at the end of the hall way that hadn't been there a minute ago. I went to open it.

_I was in the white room again, but I wasn't alone. R. Williams was there again, but so were my mom and dad. Well, a version of my mom and dad. They looked older, and they had more grey in their hair. My mom's laugh lines had turned into frown lines, and my dad had the beginnings of a bald spot on the back of his head. They were facing away from me, looking at the pictures on the wall._

_Danny was there, but he seemed older, too. There were bags under is eyes, and he stooped, his hair covering most of his face. Sam was next to him, her "goth" clothes darker and weirder. A.J. and Chester were there, too. I haven't seen them in years…_

_I again looked down at myself. I was still covered in paint and market, but I had more dirt on my hands then last time. I was holding a paper, which I let slip to the floor. The paper bit into my finger, drawing blood. I hissed in pain, and everyone turned to me._

"_Timmy!" It was my mom. She smiled and walked towards me, fast, but not fast enough to be counted as running. "Oh, baby." Her hand on my cheek was so cold._

"_You're cold…" I put my hand on hers, and looked at my friends. "Where am I?"_

"Timmy!"

_I looked around for the voice. It sounded like Wanda._

There was a sound like a wave, and I was in my room again. Cosmo and Wanda were floating above me. Wanda looked very worried. "You were dreaming, hun," she said.

Cosmo looked at her with a strange look in his eyes. It felt like…

Like they were hiding something.


	9. A Strange New Friend

**PoV Mr. Turner**

It had been a week since Timmy woke up last, and we'd lost hope that it would ever happen again. Dinkleberg had come around saying that he hadn't known about Timmy, and, the funny thing was, I believed him. I believed that he didn't know, and I believed that he wasn't trying to make my life hell.

Even weirder, I went over to his house one day. He invited me in and we sat in his kitchen, each of us with a bottle of bud in our hand, talking for hours. I had started crying at some point. He talked really softly, as if not to scare a small child. I was terrified. I really was.

When I went home, he said that he'd always be right there if I needed to talk. I thanked him. It wasn't long until I found myself there again, talking to him again, spilling my guts about how it was my fault Timmy was in the hospital, how it was my fault because I'd hired Vicky.

He talked me out from my saddened stupor. He told me I couldn't have known. I invited him to see Timmy. He said he'd be glad to come.

When we went to next day, Doctor Williams made sure that Dinkleberg knew what was going on. Dinkleberg nodded and was very serious. We went in and I introduced him to Timmy. Timmy was even paler than before, and he looked like he was about to throw up. I told Doctor Williams, and he nodded.

"Dad…"

I turned around to Timmy, his eyes focused on my, but he looked like he was struggling. I knelt down in front of him, taking his cold hands in mine. His eyes drifted behind me, and he looked confused. He looked back at me.

"Dinkleberg…?"

"You remember me?" he asked. Dinkleberg smiled at Timmy and put his hand on Timmy's shoulder. "It's wonderful to see you again, Timmy."

"But…" Timmy's eyes unfocused. His eye lids drew closed and he fell forward onto me, and I held him like that for quite a while. Then I set him down on his bed, and Dinkleberg and I left.


	10. Help Me, Please!

**PoV Timmy**

It was weird seeing my dad with Mr. Dinkleberg, but, even weirder, Chester and AJ showed up again, acting like we'd only been talking yesterday. And I remembered talking to them yesterday, but I also remembered not seeing them until today. My head started to hurt the more and more I thought about it.

I went to Danny's house that afternoon.

"Danny, I think I'm going insane," I said.

"What'd'ya mean, kiddo?" he asked.

"I mean I keep seeing things that aren't really there, and Chester and AJ are here again, but I don't remember them being here before, but I do, and I keep seeing these white doors everywhere, and when I go through them, I see my parents, and pictures of Vicky and… fairies," I said, stopping for a breath. "Please, Danny, I need help."

He just looked at me.

Then he sighed.

Then he left his room.

And after that day, I didn't see him again.

No one knew who he was when I asked, not even Sam.

I was going insane, I could feel it.

I am going insane.

I am going insane.

I need help.

I need help!

Help me, please!


	11. I Vow To Change This World

**PoV Mr. Turner**

It's been a week since Timmy met Mr. Dinkleberg again, and he woke up twice after that. He stayed away for three hours. Three hours! We're finally getting some progress. He kept asking if Danny was okay, and if why couldn't he find Cosmo or Wanda. I have no idea who they are. Mr. Williams told me that he might have created them to help himself cope with what happened, and that they're only in his head. I told that to Timmy, but he had already gone.

It's harder now, somehow, to know that he keeps waking up. We have all this hope every time he does, and then we lose some of it when he goes. He seems so scared all the time, when he's awake, like he's being torn between two lives. Mr. Williams again said that he might have created a world in his head, to cope. I really wish he'd get better.

Mr. Williams said that if he stays awake for longer than four hours next time, then he'll prescribe a drug to help him; a drug that will keep him awake. And if he is stable on that drug, then he can come home. We were so happy when he told us that Timmy could be coming home.

Danny came to visit, all the way from Amity Park. It's about a two hour drive. His eyes were tired, but he seemed happy to be there. He wanted news, and he got it. He celebrated with us, and he went to see Timmy. It wasn't a fun experience, apparently.

Timmy had woken up, and he had seen Danny. He had smiled, and laughed and cried, and hugged Danny as tightly as he could. Danny cried, and laughed, and smiled, and hugged Timmy as tight as he could. But Timmy was by far the happier of the two.

The other doctors had decided, against Dr. Williams wishes, to try get him to stay awake. They had him hooked up to an IV machine, and the levels of whatever they had in that thing go up when he woke up. It wasn't pretty. Timmy's body wasn't ready for it, and it reacted badly. He couldn't breathe, and he started choking on his own vomit. Danny called for help, and Mr. Williams ran in, and he injected something into Timmy's arm, which forced him to shut down. He just collapsed.

Doctor Williams went on a rampage. Danny was sent home. He came crying to our house, blubbering like a baby. He stayed the night and filled us in, telling us in horrifying detail what happened, and how much it hurt just to watch.

I hated what our family had become.

And I vowed to change it.

I vowed to help Timmy.

No matter what.


	12. Becase You're Dead

**PoV Timmy**

I don't want to go back there. I don't want to "wake up" as Danny called it. I don't want to throw up, I don't want to choke, I don't want to black out. I want to stay here, with Cosmo and Wanda, Sam, Chester, AJ and all my other friends, and I want Danny back, but I can't find him, and no one remembers him. I am so scared, and I don't know what to do.

I was talking to Cosmo one day, when Wanda and Poof were out. He looked worried, as if something were coming to an end.

"You've got to remember this, Timmy," he said, being strangely serious." We love you. We love you so very much."

"I love you guys, too," I said. "Are you okay?"

"Timmy, you have to wake up," he said. "There isn't anything we can do for you anymore. I'm so sorry, Timmy, but we have to go."

"Go where? Cosmo, what are you talking about?" I was starting to panic. I could feel tears stinging at my eyes, and my heart was beating faster and faster. "Cosmo? Please, tell me!"

"What's going on here?" Wanda appeared in the air next to us. "Cosmo, what have you done?"

"We can't protect him anymore!" Cosmo yelled. "He has to wake up!"

"He's not ready!"

I put my hands over my ears, blocking out their voices. I brought my knees up to my chest, and felt the bitter sting of tears as they fell. I can't stand listening to people fight. I can't. I just can't.

"Stop it!" I yelled. "Stop it, stop it, stop it!"

Cosmo and Wanda looked down at me, quieted by my sudden outburst.

I got up and ran out of my room, and down to the living room.

"Hey, twerp."

Vicky was stood behind me, and I turned to look at her, stiff all over.

"Your parents are out, and I'm here to take care of you," she said sweetly. In a quick moment, she had me pinned to the wall. "So I'm going to have some fun, you got it? Don't you dare go squealing to your parents, or I'll punish you even harder."

Her grin grew wide at the same time as my eyes, and her cold fingered hand wound its way into my shirt. She gripped shoulder tightly, her nails sharp. She was cold, like all the times before, like every fucking time. I started to cry again, and tried to push her away, but she was stronger than me, tougher than me.

She scratched my stomach as she moved to my pants. She squeezed me through my jeans, rough and horrible. Her breath was hot and clammy against my neck, she smelt of old socks and cheese. Her tongue was cold and slimy as she flicked it out to touch my neck. I tried to push her away again, but her shoulders wouldn't budge.

"_Timmy, she's not real."_

I opened my eyes. She was still there, hunching over me, her breath and tongue and hands and being just as repulsive as always. The man wasn't there, the man who had spoken. She was real, I could feel her, I could _feel_ her, the way her grimy hands touched my skin, sending me into a fit of shivers.

"_She's not real, Timmy. You have to tell her. Stop her."_

"You're not real!" I shouted.

Vicky froze. She straightened up, her eyes cold and hard. "What?"

"You're… You're not real."

She scowled at me, her cheeks flushing an ugly red. She pushed me harder against the wall, her hands tugging and pulling at my shirt, trying to get it off.

"No!" I yelled. "You're not real! You can't be here!"

"And why's that, Twerp?" she growled against my neck.

"Because…" A memory flashed in my head, in front of my eyes.

I whispered, "Because you're dead."


	13. Yes, I'm Here

**PoV Mr. Turner**

I was at the hospital when it happened. I was sat in front of Timmy, holding one of his hands and reading him the third Harry Potter book, when he whimpered. I looked up, and his eyes were scrunched closed. His hand in mine clenched shut, and he shook.

"Doctor!" I said.

Dr. Williams came over, and crouched in front of Timmy. "Hm."

"St-op…" Timmy croaked.

"Timmy, she's not real," Doctor Williams said.

Timmy stopped shaking for a moment, and then started up again.

"She's not real, Timmy. You have to tell her. Stop her."

"You're not real," Timmy said, his voice shaking. "You're… You're not real…"

Dr. Williams stood and told me to do the same. "I think it's best if you leave."

"No!" Timmy shouted. "You're not real! You can't be here!"

"I'm not leaving, Doctor," I said. I glared at him until he nodded.

"Because… Because you're dead," Timmy whispered.

His eyes shot open, revealing the sharp emerald colour of his irises. He gasped, and scrunched his eyes closed. He opened his eyes again, blinking at us.

"Dad?" he asked.

"Yes, son," I said, kneeling down. "Yes, I'm here."


	14. The World Crumbles

**PoV Timmy**

You know that weird feeling you get after you wake up somewhere you didn't fall asleep? Yeah, I know it, too. I fell asleep in the hospital, Doc Williams injecting something into my arm, and woke up in my house, Cosmo and Wanda floating above me. Cosmo looked like he was a ghost. He was fading, but he was smiling.

"Wake up, Timmy," he said, and he was gone.

"Ignore him, Timmy, ignore him," Wanda said, her form solid. "Do you want a wish? Do you want to go to Fairy World?"

"No," I said, sitting up and pulling my knees to my chest. "I'd like to wake up, please."

"You can't do that, you're not ready."

I nodded and got out of my bed. I walked to the kitchen, and began to say hello to my parents when I noticed only their clothes were in their chairs. I sat between them and ate my cereal, quietly munching on my frosted wheat's. I put the bowl in the sink when something fell on my arm. It was a piece of paint from the ceiling. I looked up to see the cracks expand; opening upon the ceiling, spindly spider legs of fissures. I walked into the garden in my pajama pants and t-shirt, and saw the sky was a putrid shade of grey, the sun shining like a bare light bulb. The cracks appeared in the sky, starting at the sun and stretching all around. I walked to the front yard, and walked out into the street.

I turned and walked down into to center of town, but the world seemed to be fading and disintegrating, little pieces at a time fluttering into the air. Then, there was nothing but white. I could feel the ground beneath my feet, but everything was white, blindingly so. When the world began to take shape again, I was standing back in front of my house. I sighed and walked back in, seeing the house falling to bits, paint and wood and mortar falling to the ground.

Wanda stood at the foot of the stairs, her body stretched and grotesque. Her skin seemed to be melting from her bones, her eyes rolling. Her voice was rusted, like it hadn't been used in a very long time. Her skull began to crack when her skin had melted, and her eyes boiled in their sockets, leaking out and looking like pearly tears. Her bones scrapped together, a grinding noise that set my teeth on edge. She spoke.

"Timmy, you can't leave yet. You can't go, you are not ready, you cannot go,"

I just stood there, looking upon her with pity. "Good bye, Wanda."

"No!" She lunged at me, her needle like finger bones aimed at my throat, but she crumbled to dust before she could reach me. I sat on the floor and closed my eyes, willing myself to wake up.


	15. Epilogue

**Prologue**

**PoV Timmy**

I woke up fine. My dad was there, and so was my mom. They hugged me, and told me they loved me. It was strange to really have them there for me, after years of thinking that they didn't care. My friends came around after a few days of constant lucidness. Sam even forgot to wear her black clothes. Danny cried when he saw me, he literally cried. I told him not to be so gay, but I was crying, too.

After about two weeks, I was allowed to go home. Doctor Williams said that I'd always be a little mentally and emotionally unstable, but life would get better after a couple of months. He also warned me not to operate heavy machinery and not to play any rough sports for at least half a year. I laughed with him and finally got to go.

When I got home, I found out that the Dinkleberg's had a son. He was only a few months old. My mom had prepared a cake for me. She made me my favourite meal of hot dogs cut up into mack-'n'-cheese. I felt loved. I felt happy. I felt alive.

When it was time to go to bed, my mom said I'd be sleeping in the guest room. They still hadn't had the courage to go into my room since I'd left it. So, late that night, I turned on the light to my room, and stood in the door way, looking at my pictures. I smiled at the picture of Cosmo and Wanda, smiling back and holding hands.

Over the next few weeks, we painted my room. It was going to be green, the colour of my eyes. I painted over the pictures of Vicky, feeling a sense of relief when I did. She was dead, so I had to leave her there. Danny came over to help, and I filled him in on what happened over the past few weeks. He always wanted to know if I was okay, and he always made sure that I wouldn't have another episode.

When it was time for me to go to school again, I was put in the special education classes since I'd missed so much. I was standing in the hall way on day, waiting for the stupid people to stop making out in front of my locker when I saw her; Trixie. Her ebony hair hung over her shoulders, her ivory skin looking soft to the touch. Veronica stood next to her, her summer sun bleached hair now a bob that ended near her ears. Tad and Chad stood behind her, laughing at Trixie's jokes.

I walked up to her, and was shocked to notice that I was now about an inch taller than her.

"Hi, Trixie," I said.

"Who are you?" she said.

"Oh, my God!" Veronica said. "Timmy?"

I nodded.

"I heard that you were, like, a vegetable, or something," she said, her voice like honey over shards of glass.

"Wait, you were that buck toothed kid who had a crush on me," Trixie said. She smiled. "I'm glad you're out of the hospital."

"I would have been so said if you were a vegetable," Veronica said. She smiled as well.

"I was wondering, if you'd like to go to the movies with me, Trixie," I said, my cheeks tinting pink.

She blushed and smiled as Tad and Chad scoffed. "I'd love to, Timmy."

I smiled. "I'll pick you up at seven thirty?"

She nodded.

I smiled and said good bye, then headed for class.

It seemed things _were_ going to get better.


End file.
